Serendipity
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Series of unrelated M/P oneshots written on my Tumblr.
1. Dance

Emily is in the middle of slicking her hair back into the perfect bun, filling the air with the thick smell of hair spray - a smell like chemicals and damaged fruit - when the stage manager strides into the dressing room without so much as knocking.

She huffs a sigh and sets down the bottle of hair spray. She would've liked to be annoyed at the interruption, but it's become almost as much of a routine as each choreographed series of steps. "What is it this time?" she sighs, spinning her chair to face away from her make up mirror.

* * *

Derek is waiting for her center stage, not even bothering to stretch and also not in costume, despite the fact that there is only about two hours until curtains.

"Wow..." he says breathlessly when she makes a point of tapping her pointe shoes noisily on the floor behind him, causing him to turn around and look at her, dressed in the soft billowy nightgown of her costume. She has a feeling that if he were paler, she'd see a blush all the way to the tips of his ears once he realizes what he's just said.

She decides to pretend she hadn't heard - even if she is mildly flattered - since she still has to put on her stage make-up once they're finished rehearsing and it tends to be something of a painstaking task and she wants to get through this as quickly as possible.

"Let's take it from the bedroom pas de deux?" she suggests, moving back into the wing without waiting for confirmation from him, scanning through her iPod to find the music.

The first few strains of piano dribble tinnily from the old speaker she uses when she's rehearsing alone in her apartment. She waits for two measures and silently convinces her body to trust him to catch her, then it's her cue and she steps across the stage towards him before springing onto pointe.

It's slow and mournful and he has her hand in his, then it's light and airy and she's spinning, and _God_ , she's forgotten how much she loves dancing Manon.

She stares deeply into his eyes as he holds the back of her neck, the only thing keeping her from a dead-fall backwards, silently evaluating him. He's never partnered her before, as he tends to be second-cast while she's often first, but she's seen him in rehearsals. She knows he's talented, she's seen the way he moves with grace his build wouldn't suggest him capable of, seen him leap what seems twenty feet in the air. She thinks he should've been first-cast for this ballet, if it weren't for the fact that dark-skinned dancers tended not to get cast in leading roles and damn if it isn't unfair.

He's staring intensely at her now as she lies there and they're a few beats behind, but they continue anyway and he's pulling her up to her toes and she's cradled against his kneeling form. She nuzzles her nose into his neck, inhaling deeply as her eyes flutter shut; she's not trying to sell it, the way she would onstage, but if someone had seen she's not sure they could've told the difference.

He lifts her up and she's on his shoulder and she's forgotten she's supposed to be nervous that he might drop her. She rolls down his body, he never falters even slightly, and she's not sure she's ever felt safer with a partner.

Then she's back on her toes again, her body remembering the movements even though her mind is still preoccupied evaluating his steadfast arms and gentle hands. He's in her space then, his nose bumping against hers, and she never would've suggested rehearsing this scene if she'd remembered the passionate kiss it called for.

She's breathing his air, both panting slightly when there's suddenly a discordant sound as the orchestra chooses that moment to start tuning their instruments and Emily pulls away suddenly with a sharp intake of breath and she feels her cheeks coloring, unable to quite meet Derek's eyes.

He doesn't seem all that ashamed and she tells herself she's _not_ ashamed because it's only acting and it's only a kiss and it really is in the choreography and it probably wouldn't hurt to practice it at least once because how else are they going to sell passionate love affair for a theatre full of people?

She clears her throat a few times, trying to find words while her chest floods with embarrassment and not a small bit of disappointment at being interrupted.

What she's not admitting is that she's ashamed of just how badly she wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him for real, with the deep unabashed passion of Des Grieux for Manon and – if the slow tingling burning its way from her her stomach to between her legs is any indication – it's been far too long since an almost-kiss has ignited even the slightest bit of fire inside her.

And damn if two hours to curtain – and the promise of the real kiss it contains – has ever felt so long.


	2. Surrogacy

JJ deeply regretted her generosity. Like really _really_ fucking deeply.

She was doing this _for free_ , goddammit. (She'd looked it up later, she could've made _thirty grand_ …)

Currently, she was awkwardly sprawled on the couch in her darkened office with a cold cloth covering her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose as her stomach roiled tempestuously.

There was a creak of floorboards as someone hovered in the doorway and with a long-suffering sigh, she demanded, "Whoever you are, get me the Skittles and lemonade on my desk. And if you're Emily or Morgan, be very glad I can't stand up right now without vomiting all over my shoes." She held out a hand and made a grabbing motion to signify her impatience

"Is it really that bad?" Morgan asked, handing over the requested items and quickly retracting his hand as if he were feeding a rabid wolverine.

Emily shot him a warning look. The man had a death wish.

"Go teabag yourself, Derek!" JJ very nearly growled as she moved the cloth obscuring her vision so he could see how very not-amused she was. Ordinarily, she probably wouldn't have been so aggressive, but in this situation, it seemed warranted.

Emily gave a nervous little squeak and smacked her husband's shoulder. "Could you please not aggravate the woman carrying our child?" she hissed. He at least managed to look sheepish. Emily gingerly sat down next to the other woman and stroked a hand down her back. "Have you had anything to eat today besides Skittles?" she asked with some concern, trying hard to keep her voice unaccusing.

That, however, was not the right thing to say. JJ rounded on her and Emily suddenly understood the rabid wolverine comparison. "I eat what your demon spawn allows me to keep down," she said frighteningly quietly. "Do you know how much sickness I had with Henry?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to the way Morgan and Emily both seemed to shrink away under her glare. "None! I didn't get sick once! When I offered to carry your child for you, I had no idea it was going to spend the first five months trying to _kill_ me!"

She paused in her rant to sip her drink in an attempt to ward off the acidic burn creeping up the back of her throat. Morgan seemed about to run away, citing this as a 'female issue', but one glare from Emily that seemed to threaten that he could run but not hide kept him motionless and silent.

"You know, I'm not convinced I'm not carrying some kind of alien parasite that's going to hijack my DNA and seize control of my body from the inside out in order to steal government secrets."

"What… How would you even come up with that?" Morgan asked, dumbfounded.

"When you spend eight hours a day hunched over a toilet trying to decide if you just violently expelled your spleen, those are the kinds of things you think about."

Emily delicately threw her arms around the other woman, effectively sending her into a stunned silence. "I'm so sorry this has been so hard," she effused, "Thank you for being such a good home for our baby and I promise when this is all over, we'll buy you your body weight in sushi and vodka and you'll be the favorite auntie and you'll never have to babysit or change diapers and…"

Morgan sighed and shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes. He stepped forward to rescue JJ from Emily's hug and apologies before she promised her he'd serve as her man-servant until she gave birth or something like that.

He was saved the effort, though, when JJ suddenly lurched forwards, nearly throwing Emily to the floor in her haste. "If anyone needs me, I'll just be in the bathroom throwing my fucking guts up because your unborn kid wants to be a dick."

Emily started after her to hold her hair back, but paused at the doorway. "Can you grab her toothbrush? It's in her top right desk drawer." He then heard her call down the hallway, "When you're done, Derek will rub your shoulders; it always makes me feel better when I'm nauseous."

"This kid better be really damn cute," he muttered under his breath as he reluctantly followed, toothbrush in hand.


End file.
